Excerpts from the Cohen Brain
by LeapOFaith4
Summary: This is a very random fic, pre-RENT, about some of the stuff Mark goes through. It's all his POV, and it flashes from one thing to another.


Author's Note - This was written in about a half hour. It's really random. Kind of Mark's thoughts before   
'RENT'. I don't own Mark, or Roger, or Maureen (wish I did, lol), or Collins, or April. They belong to the   
late great Jonathan Larson. And don't hold this fic against me. I'm delusional, I swear! Review it please!  
  
  
  
  
I watched her. I sat myself down on the bench and just watched. They way she moved, the way   
she spoke. I loved her, I really did. I still do. She's put me through so much shit...and I still love her. She's   
a flurry of energy, a bundle of laughter, she's Maureen. How could I not love her?   
"Marky! Marky!" I heard her calling me. I didn't answer. She's so cute when she gets mad. "Mark   
Cohen, you get your pale ass over here RIGHT NOW or else I'll have to come over there!"  
"Ooooh, what a threat! And what will you do over here, O Great Queen?" I like toying with her.   
"I'll have to do something drastic!!" She stormed over, trying to look mad, trying to hide the smile.   
The next thing I knew, my camera was on the ground, Maureen was on my lap, and we were in the middle   
of a long kiss.   
"Break it up, you two!" Roger was pretending to cover his eyes in disgust. April gave him that   
Look - the same Look I had gotten from Maureen as she was storming over to me. Collins was laughing,   
Benny tried to contain his chuckles.   
"Roger, stop living in West Bumblefuck! PDA's are perfectly fine here!" Maureen never liked to   
let Roger forget he'd come from a small town. He laughed, then embraced April. I'm sure we were getting   
strange looks from people around us. But we didn't care. We were having a good time. All of us. Together.   
  
~~~~~  
  
I came home to a silent loft. That was odd. There was always something happening here. But   
Collins wasn't in town, Benny had moved out, Roger was playing a gig with his band, Maureen was God-  
knows-where. But April wasn't anywhere. She rarely left the loft without Roger, and when she did, it was   
usually to get drugs.   
"April?" She didn't like me very much. I guess I was too concerned with Roger's well-being for   
her liking. She usually avoided me at all costs. But it wasn't a great loss. She was just one big fucking ray   
of sunshine.   
I walked into kitchen. No April. But there was some sour milk. "Yuuuuck". I dumped the carton   
into the trashcan. Oh well, sour milk was an improvement from April.   
I had to piss. I walked into the bathroom and promptly tripped on something. "Dammit! Why   
can't Roger fucking clean up after hims..." My word trailed off as I flicked on the light. What I had tripped   
over was something of Roger's, but he hadn't just left it in the bathroom. It was a body. April's body. Blood.   
All over the bathroom floor. "Holy fuck..." The contents of my stomach were now in my hand. But I didn't   
rush for water or a towel. I couldn't take my eyes off of the corpse of my best friend's girlfriend. Her dark   
red hair (dyed, many times) was matted with blood from her wrists. The razor blade (also soaked in blood)   
gleamed in the light. Her eyes were half open, blue orbs, gazing at me. There was a note. I picked it up and   
read it aloud, to myself, to no one.   
"Roger, We've got AIDS. I love you. April." AIDS. AIDS. My best friend has AIDS.   
  
~~~~~  
  
"Roger, come on. Try to look semi-happy. Maureen's coming over." For the past five months I'd   
been trying to pep up my friend. He always had a listless gaze, no smile. "Please? For me?"  
The songwriter got up, walked into his room, and shut the door. A few seconds later, I heard the   
same familiar chords coming from behind the door. Always the same. It sounded like "Musetta's Waltz",   
from "La Boheme". Would I let Roger know I listened to opera? Of course not. To him, it was a nameless   
tune.   
I heard a key turning in the latch. Maureen. "Hi sweetie!" I said, getting up.   
"Hey Pookie. What's up?" She was holding two cans of Coke. She threw one at me.   
"Not much. Roger's still in his funk. Collins is...somewhere." That was the typical response.   
Things were always like that around here anymore.   
Maureen sat down next to me. Something caught the light and shone. It was a gold necklace.   
"Nice necklace. Where'd you get it?" I didn't remember her ever wearing it.   
"Oh, this? Joanne - I mean - I bought it." She looked embarrassed, like she hoped I hadn't caught   
her slip-up.   
"No, wait. You said something about Joanne. Who's she?" Probably someone she'd met on her   
travels.   
"Joanne's...no one." She looked at her lap. This was very unlike Maureen. She was never shy.   
"Maureen, honey, what's wrong? I can tell something's wrong." I moved over to her. She shot out   
of her seat.   
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Everything's fucking peachy. Bye Mark. Gotta run. See ya." And   
with that she was out the door.   
I sat, pondering, for a few minutes before I heard footsteps.   
"What was that all about?" It was Roger.   
"I don't know - Maureen's acting weird."   
"Maureen - weird? Never..." Sarcasm.   
"Ha ha. She was very...quiet."  
"Maureen? Quiet??"  
"My reaction exactly."  
"Well, you better find out what the fuck is wrong with the bitch. Otherwise you're screwed."  
"Thanks Roge. You're a real help." I rolled my eyes at him. He smirked at me, and then went back   
into his domain.   
The phone rang a little while later. "Hello?"  
"Marky? It's me. Maureen."  
I laughed. "I know. No one else calls me Marky."  
"Sorry about before."  
"It's ok - I'm used to you at this time of the month."  
She laughed. "No, it's not that. It's something else. That I have to talk to you about. I mean - talk -   
on the phone - now..."  
Wow. It wasn't like Maureen at all to stumble over words. "What is it Honey?"  
"I've got something important to tell you. Very important."  
I knew it. I knew this was coming. "I know."  
"What? You know? How?"  
"It's pretty obvious Maureen."  
"Wow...I didn't know that. Shit. Do you think anyone else knows?"  
"I think Roger may have his suspicions."  
"Crap."  
"Well, everyone's bound to find out sooner or later."  
"Huh? Not necessarily."  
"It'll be pretty obvious, when you can't wear those pleather pants anymore."  
"What the fuck? Mark - I'm not pregnant."  
Good one Cohen. Open mouth, insert foot. "Oh...you're not? Then...what is it?"  
"Marky, remember when I slipped before, and told you something about Joanne?"  
Oooh. An answer to my mystery. "Yup. Who is she?"  
Silence. I would have thought she got disconnected, or hung up, if I hadn't heard her breathing.   
"Maureen?"  
"Marky...Joanne is...my girlfriend."  
Her what? "Your...girlfriend?" I stuttered.   
"Yes, Marky. She's my girlfriend. I've been cheating on you."  
"Girlfriend? That means...that means you're a dyke! I'm going out with a dyke!" I still wasn't   
getting past that.   
"Yes. But I've been cheating on you."  
"With a girl!"  
"Goodbye Mark. I'll talk to you later." She hung up.   
I stood there, looking at the receiver. My girlfriend - correction - my EX-girlfriend was a dyke.   
But she was Maureen! And Maureen wasn't a dyke! She was a sex kitty! MY sex kitty! Not Joanne's dyke!  
Someone cleared their throat behind me. I spun around. "Fuck! You scared me Roger!"  
"Hello to you too. You've been staring at that damn phone for the past 5 minutes. What the hell is   
wrong with you?"  
"Guess what." He was surprised at my being wired.   
"You won the Lotto. Cindy had another kid. You actually spoke to your mother. Big Brother is   
watching. Collins called. What?"  
"Maureen's a dyke." I looked at him, expecting sympathy.   
"Maureen? YOUR Maureen? Fuck!" He giggled. "I'm sorry Mark. I'm sorry Maureen's a fucking   
lesbian!" Larger laughs.   
I glared at him. "What the hell is so fucking funny? My girlfriend just dumped me for another   
woman!"  
"I'm sorry Mark! I really am! But, Maureen!" He wandered off laughing.   
I grunted. I didn't find it funny. I flipped on my camera and focused it on myself. "Zoom in on   
Mark Cohen, the guy who was so bad in bed, his girlfriend ran off with a woman." I swerved the camera to   
Roger, who was standing in the doorway, laughing. "Now close on Roger, who finds this hilariously funny,   
for reasons beyond my understanding."  
  
~~~~~  
  
So, that's part 1 of my fic. If you like it, I'll write more. If you don't like it, I won't write more (well - I'll   
write more - it just won't be a part of this fic). If you throw things at me, I'll sue. :-P  
  



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